


Kenopsia

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7587001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that’s usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet — a school hallway in the evening, an unlit office on a weekend, vacant fairgrounds — an emotional after image that makes it seem not just empty but hyper - empty, with a total population in the negative, who are so conspicuously absent they glow like neon signs.</i>
</p>
<p>They've packed up studios before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kenopsia

**Author's Note:**

> Another one for the prompt 'emotions people feel but can't explain'.

They’ve packed up studios before, boxing up set dressings and an ever increasing number of folding chairs, securing the wheel and the desk with tie-down ropes in the backs of U-Hauls that get larger with every move. It’s tedious, sweaty work, but never something either of them has dreaded, because every set of boxes has always come with something bigger and better on the horizon—a larger studio, better located, more room for the crew, desks and actual offices instead of cheap card tables just off-camera.

The sound of the tape pulling across the box is loud, jarringly magnified in the nearly empty space of the studio. It’s just the two of them now. The wrap party ended hours ago, Stevie pulling them each down by the collar and planting kisses on their cheeks, Alex and Lizzie matching each other shot for shot until Alex blanched and ran for the toilet, a concerned but laughing Mike in his wake. Chase was the last to leave, lingering in the doorway, knuckles white as he gripped the wooden frame like a lifeline, a hitch in his breath as he asked for the fifteenth time if they needed any help finishing up.

“We’re good, buddy,” Rhett had said softly, and Chase had nodded.

“Okay. I’ll see you guys tomo—well, no, but I’ll—see you sometime, I’m sure, I mean, we’re still in the same city and all, and—”

“Chase?” Link had interrupted, cutting off his rambling, and he’d stepped close, arms outstretched. “It’s been great workin’ with you, kid.”

There are two spots on Link’s shirt, just under his shoulder, that are still a little damp.

Rhett coughs, the sound echoing and rebounding against the now-bare walls. Setting down the marker he’s been using to label the boxes, he rubs a hand over his face then looks at Link. “That’s the last one, brother.”

The chairs and the desk are still there, the only pieces of set furniture that remain, everything else either carted off by the crew or packed up to be put into storage. They still haven’t figured out what they’re going to do with it all—maybe an auction, with the proceeds going to charity. There are enough Mythical Beasts out there who’d want a part of the set; they’d probably be able to raise a nice chunk of change for some good cause. They don’t have to decide that now, though.

Wordlessly, Link picks his way through the maze of boxes and pulls back his chair, settling back into the familiar seat one last time. Rhett’s chair scrapes loudly as he sits next to him, rubbing the smooth surface of the desk like he’s done a million times before. Around them, the fruits of their labor, the evidence of fifteen years of hard work, have been reduced to white walls and a sea of cardboard.

“Awful quiet in here,” Rhett murmurs, and doesn’t bother to hide the sniffle that follows.

Link draws a shaky breath, tries to smile. “Yeah. Let’s talk about that.”


End file.
